


A Necklace Of Hope

by SierraRhodes46



Category: Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins
Genre: Dark, Insanity
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-28
Updated: 2017-03-28
Packaged: 2018-10-11 22:49:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 730
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10476279
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SierraRhodes46/pseuds/SierraRhodes46
Summary: If Peeta had been caught by the mutts in the 74th Hunger Games, how would Katniss's life change? Would she still survive the games? Would the revolution happen? Would the good guys win?





	

**Author's Note:**

> Hi guys! This is my first story! Any advice is welcome! I know the details might not be spot on cause I haven't read the books in a while, but I hope you like this! Any characters here aren't mine, they all belong to Suzanne Collins.

       It wasn't supposed to be like this. We were- there were only three of us left after Thresh and Foxface died. Peeta and I weren't hungry. I can still taste the lamb stew on my tongue, but now its coming back up the wrong way and I have to force it back down. I barely manage that through my choked off sobs. I blink back the water in my eyes- I'm not quite sure if its from the rain cascading down from the fake sky or if I'm crying. Its probably both. Everything sounds so distant. The barks and growls of the mutts on my heels, Cato's shouts, the echos of Peeta's screams and my own breath that I can't quite seem to catch.

       I'm not sure who I'm crying for. For Prim, my sweet Prim, and my unfulfilled promise to her? For Rue and her childish beauty, more serene in death than ever? For Peeta and his last breaths spent screaming in pain as the mutts got him? For Gale, who was like a brother to me, but really could have been more? Or maybe I'm crying for me. For the deep-seated terror that makes me want to scream and throw up and fight, but I can't because no one can fight the Capitol. And the terror makes me keep running, keep going, but I'm tired. Tired of running and fighting, tired of being what Peeta was always afraid of being. The Capitols pawn. But I can't stop, I can't think past the roar of  _Oh god no please no just stop I can't breath Peeta please no no nononononono_ in my head. They're making a game out of us. Its in the name, but we all forget. This isn't real. It is of course, to us, the tributes and districts and families, but not for them. Not for the Capitol. The tributes will die, the districts will mourn and the Capitol will laugh. They will laugh and laugh and laugh. That's when I hear myself laughing. It sound hysterical and desperate and haunting. 

 _'I must have gone insane',_ I think with a surprising amount of apathy. And I really must have, because the mind-numbing terror recedes and I'm left with one thought. We outnumber them. The districts outnumber the Capitol, twelve to one. And even without the career districts on our side, its eight to five and generally the poorer districts have more people. District 12 have triple the number of District 1's population. We could do it. We could revolt. The upper districts and Capitol are dependent on us, we could strike, we could-

       And then the Gamemakers must have gotten me where they wanted, because as I broke the treeline, the hounds gradually fell away and melted into the shadows, like they were never even there at all. That sends me into another fit of giggles, even as I hunch over to be sick, because Gale told a joke once that I don't quite remember, but it was funny. When I stand back up, the silvery glint of the cornucopia in the moonlight shines like a beacon, causing something to stir in my mind. There's something I need to do. Someone else I need to kill...

       It was complete luck I didn't get gutted right then. Right before a bloodstained sword cuts through my body, I fall. The dizzy spell leaves me on the ground, bewildered, but alive. And Cato's miss left him off balance and vulnerable to a kick to the kneecap. So that's what I did. He lands with a thump and my instinct takes over. 

_Killkillkillkill._

       I didn't register that I was straddling him and had pulled my last arrow from my quiver until said arrow was buried in his throat and face over and over again. And I just... kept going. I didn't stop until I couldn't even recognize him, and I was laughing again, but it sounded more like sobbing. His blood spilled over my fingers, warming them in the cold dark. Why was it so cold? Its not this cold back in District 12, not when I was singing my little Primrose a lullaby. 

_Deep in the meadow, under the willow.._

_A bed of grass, a soft green pillow..._

_Lay down your head, and close your eyes..._

_Close your eyes..._

       The words flee my mind as the world goes black.


End file.
